


No Smoking, Please

by redscrollsofmalec



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Humor, If You Can Believe it, M/M, Miscommunication, Penny is just there for shits and giggles and because she cares about her boys, Post-Book 1: Carry On, Pre-Book 2: Wayward Son, Simon tries to help but actually does the opposite, Smoking, but they actually talk in the end so it's ok, fluff if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redscrollsofmalec/pseuds/redscrollsofmalec
Summary: “C’mon, I didn’t look at all these pictures of black lungs in Normal school to then date someone who isn’t even trying to give it up.”Black lungs? What other grotesque things do Normal schools teach? “I’ll be fine. I’m not even sure I have lungs.”“Pretty sure you have lungs.”In which Simon tries to get Baz to quit smoking, Baz isn’t having it, and Penny just wants the two idiots to communicate.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 16
Kudos: 110





	No Smoking, Please

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, folks! I’ve infiltrated a new fandom! This is my first contribution to the carry on fandom, which has some of the most talented and creative people in it. If you haven’t yet checked out BasicBathsheba on ao3 and vkelleyart on Tumblr then what have you been doing?? Go give them your love because they’re amazing.
> 
> So back to this fic. I had the idea for it before I read wayward son…… and then I read wayward son. Does anyone else need therapy after that book? I wrestled with the decision of making this fit the canon or not, and I decided that I would try to include some of Simon and Baz’s trauma so that it would be mostly canon compliant, but I would make them COMMUNICATE. So here we are. And yes, writing them properly talking was cathartic.
> 
> So as this is my first fic for this fandom, constructive criticism is welcome (kindly worded of course). Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you didn’t! Tell me how to improve! I do hope to write more snowbaz stuff in the future, because I need something to tide me over until AWTWB.
> 
> Content warning/disclaimer: If you are sensitive to cigarette smoking, I would advise you to scroll past this one. This is not meant to shame anyone who smokes, however if you do, I would recommend finding some support and resources to help you quit because of the many health risks smoking poses. However, your life is yours to live and this fic is really just for entertainment purposes.

**Baz**

The feeling starts as an itch. Small, but persistent. I could ignore it if I wanted to, but it’s only going to get stronger. The feeling isn’t dissimilar to the feeling of being low on blood, but it’s not the same. It’s hard to explain. Blood is a biological _need_ for me, this is just a craving. I don’t have the urge to bite people, just to snap at them if they do or say something stupid. Which is most of the time with the present company I keep. Maybe it’s better if I just go outside and take care of it with a quick cigarette.

I’m sitting in Snow and Bunce’s flat, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence. Sometimes I wonder if I spend more time here than at my own place. I certainly do during the day, but I never spend the night here. Not yet. 

Bunce is engrossed in a book on her latest obscure preoccupation. I don’t bother reading the title to find out. Crowley knows she’ll talk my ears off about it if I give her any indication that I care. Snow is equally engrossed in one of his stupid games that has far too many colours and buttons to press. He tried to explain it to me once. I pretended to be asleep. He didn’t try again. 

I retrieve my blazer from the back of my chair. It’s one of my new favourites, part of the Thom Browne fall collection. I can feel the outline of the box in the chest pocket, just where I left it.

“I’m stepping outside for a bit,” I tell the others. I assume they know what that’s code for. Bunce gives a curt nod without looking away from her book. Simon’s features settle into a frown. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m leaving or because I’m leaving to smoke. Either way, I touch his shoulder lightly on my way out to try to placate him. (I don’t think it works.)

It’s sunnier than normal for London. The sun is peeking through a thin layer of clouds. I can feel it on my skin like the beginning of a rash. There’s a shop near the apartment building with an awning that I go and stand beneath. I take out a fag from the box. I’m almost out, I must remember to get some more tomorrow. My wand is up my sleeve, so I grasp the handle and whisper _**“Fire burn and cauldron bubble!”**_ The tip of the cigarette ignites and I quickly suck in a lungful of smoke. It warms me from the inside out, soothes the itch under my skin. I still remember the first time I tried one, how it felt to let the flame get so close to my body. I’m a Pitch at heart and Pitches wield fire. This is just another way for me to feel like myself.

“You need to stop this,” says a voice. I don’t bother looking up; I know it’s Snow talking.

“What’s ‘this’?” I ask, even though we both know there’s only one thing he could be referring to.

“Smoking.” Snow pulls the lit cigarette out of my mouth and stubs it into the pavement. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re flammable?”

“I’ll be fine. I know how to be careful.” I finally give into temptation and look up. Snow’s cheeks are red from the cold air and his hair is an unruly mess. Bunce must have spelled his wings invisible before he left. He’s beautiful. I have to stop myself from staring, even though I know he doesn’t mind. I mind. I try not to give away how gone for him I am, especially in public. 

“Now that we’re dating,” Simon begins. I let out a long and tortured groan. He used to say it a lot when he wanted something from me. Occasionally I would give in to him. Very occasionally. When I was tired and worn down and his lips were on my neck. But none of that has happened recently, so I thought he was past using it to get his way.

“Now that we’re dating,” he perseveres, “I’m allowed to care about your health.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How very touching.”

“C’mon, I didn’t look at all these pictures of black lungs in Normal school to then date someone who isn’t even trying to give it up.”

Black lungs? What other grotesque things do Normal schools teach? “I’ll be fine. I’m not even sure I have lungs.”

“Pretty sure you have lungs.”

He’s right. I do have lungs. I just don’t have time for this conversation. 

“And since we’re on the topic of health,” I continue, pointedly taking out another cigarette. Snow snatches it from my grip before I even have a chance to light it. “We need to talk about the egregious amounts of butter you put on your scones.”

He flushes crimson and mutters something about it being an unfair comparison. I’m always unfair, he should know that by now.

**Simon**

“He’s impossible sometimes,” I complain. I flop down on the couch, narrowly missing my controller.

“And you only just figured this out?” Penny says. She’s still reading, I can see her eyes moving at a hundred miles an hour.

“Can’t he see that I’m trying to help him?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want help,” Penny says helpfully. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes it does.” I unpause my game and pick up where I left off. I need a distraction from Baz and his stubbornness. “I don’t want him to die from lung cancer.”

“Are you sure he can even get cancer? How do vampire lungs work? Their cells must have different regenerative properties.”

Trust Penny to focus on the wrong thing. “That’s not the point. The point is that it’s a bad habit and he won’t let me help him break it.” I throw aside the controller. I should know better by now. Nothing can distract me from Baz when I get like this.

“So I take it he’s not coming back?”

“No. He said that if I didn’t want to watch him smoke, he would go smoke somewhere else. And then he took off.”

“Hmm.” Penny sets aside her book and rubs her chin. She usually does this when she’s thinking up a solution to one of my messes. “Some people find smoking attractive. Have you thought about that?”

I have not. But Baz is always attractive. He doesn’t need a fag hanging out of his lips to achieve that. “Yes.” I say. “But Baz is more attractive when he’s not smoking.” I feel the tips of my ears grow hot. I don’t like talking about Baz’s attractiveness with other people, even Penny.

“Well it was worth a shot. It’d be a lot easier than trying to make Baz quit. You can’t make that boy do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“Do you think people who smoke are attractive?” I ask. I can’t help it, I’m curious.

“Slick Nick, Simon, no! I’d never find anything that Normal and pedestrian attractive.”

“Baz isn’t pedestrian,” I say. I don’t know why I’m bothering to defend him when he was such a wanker today. You can call Baz many things, but ‘pedestrian’ isn’t one of them.

“No, he has being a mage and a vampire going for him.”

“So if neither of us can live with Baz smoking, what do we do?” Penny knows I can’t do anything without her help. We’re a team, a package deal. She picks up her laptop from the coffee table and starts typing away furiously.

“There are a bunch of resources on quitting smoking. Of course, they’re all for Normals, but I’m sure some of it’s transferable. There are also some products.” She spins around the laptop to show me a variety of patches and gums.

“These would all be great if Baz would ever admit to needing to quit.”

“Merlin’s return will happen before that.” 

Penny’s right. Baz is stubborn. So stubborn. “We have to be sneaky,” I say.

“You can’t sneak around a vampire.” Penny says, but she hasn’t given up. I can tell. Her eyes are lit up with a fiery determination, which means the game has just begun.

It’s me who says the magic words. “We need a plan.”

Phase one of the plan: dispose of Baz’ cigarettes.

Penny and I both agreed that this was a first good step. 

“If Baz has no cigarettes, then he can’t smoke,” Penny said to me. She was pointing at a whiteboard (we have one in every room of the house) with a piece of french toast. (Did I mention we planned this over breakfast?) The board was divided down the middle. One side read ‘things to get Baz to quit’ and the other side read ‘things Baz will do to resist quitting’. ‘Destroy cigarettes’ was on the first side. ‘Buy more cigarettes’ was on the second.

“How do we make sure he doesn’t buy more?” Penny asked me.

“Cut up his credit card?” I suggested.

“That’s a bit extreme, Simon. It’s only smoking.” 

We eventually settled on ‘hope he doesn’t notice for a while and then proceed to phase two’. The only problem was that we hadn’t worked out phase two.

“Electric shock therapy!” Penny announced excitedly. I looked at her and instantly imagined her wearing a white coat and holding some wires. (It’s the hair. It makes her look like a mad scientist.) 

“He’s flammable,” I reminded her. “You’d probably set him on fire.”

“It’s worth a shot,” she grumbled, but it didn’t take long for her to let it go.

It’s the evening now, and we’re all back from university. Baz is working on an economics assignment. He’s glaring at the screen of his laptop and jabbing at the keys like he’s trying to pop bubble wrap. 

Penny and I should be doing schoolwork, but we’re both waiting for the right time to ask Baz to go pick up some Indian takeout for dinner. Neither of us are very subtle; if Baz wasn’t so angry at his essay he’d easily know something was up. I’m watching the clock on the wall like it’s the season finale of _Game of Thrones._ Yeah, if Baz was paying me any attention at all he’d think I was mental. More mental than he already thinks I am.

 _Tick, tick, tick._ The second hand of the clock finally, _finally_ rolls over to six o’clock. Penny and I both pounce.

“Baz, isn’t it time for you to pick up dinner for us?” Penny gets out before I can say anything. I should’ve known that would happen. Words aren’t my strong suit, especially under pressure. It was one of the things Baz loved most to use against me at Watford.

Baz pokes his head above his screen and checks the time. “It’s only six o’clock. I’m in the middle of this horrendous essay, can’t one of you do it?”

“It was my turn last time,” Penny attempts.

“Actually I picked it up last time. What’s gotten into you?” Baz frowns. I don’t like it when he frowns like that. It usually means he’s onto you.

“Penny and I have to practice,” I chime in. Here we go, brain, better come up with something remotely believable. 

“Practice what?” Baz says. Penny looks like she would be saying the same thing if Baz weren’t here.

“Uh, my speech.” _Nice one, Snow. Only minimal blustering._

“Didn’t you present that last week?”

“This is a new speech.” I close my eyes before I continue; you’d think I’d be used to embarrassing myself by now. “And I’m really bad at it. That’s why I don’t want you to hear. I’m only letting Penny help me because I’d be a disaster without her.”

Baz relaxes. Fuck him for only believing me when I’m making myself look bad. “You would indeed, Snow. Alright, I’ll go. But I expect everyone to chip in this time.” He says everyone, but he’s looking at me as he says it. He should know I’m skint, it’s hard to get a job when you have dragon wings and a tail.

“Fine.” I’m sure I’ve got some leprechaun gold left somewhere.

“Shouldn’t be too long.” Baz starts heading for the front door. “You both want your usual?”

“Yes, with extra samosas,” I say. I know that’s not meant to be my top priority right now, but I can’t help it. I never can when food’s involved. 

Baz rolls his eyes and goes to take his coat off the hanger in the entryway. It’s as if it’s happening in slow motion, Pen and I both shout “No!” and Baz stares at us like we’ve lost the plot completely. For once I don’t blame him.

“It’s just, it’s, ah, a lovely evening,” I quickly amend. I point at the window, but the curtains are closed so it’s useless. It’s also drizzling outside like it is most of the time in London. “You don’t need a coat, you can enjoy the weather while it lasts.” I don’t know why I’m continuing to dig myself into a hole. I think Penny has given up at this point, she just looks vaguely amused.

Baz is still looking at me like I’m absolutely batty. “You’ve gone nuts,” he says in a hushed voice. “Completely, totally nuts. I’ve always known you were nuts, but this really takes the cake, Snow.”

“I’m just stressed about my speech!” I yell. I hope me yelling will make him feel better. It was once our usual dynamic. “Just forget about your coat and leave! And bring me my samosas!”

Baz doesn’t argue. He drops the coat on the floor (that’s unlike him, it’s a wool blend Burberry) and races out of the flat. I’m not convinced he’ll be back tonight. 

“Well,” Penny says when she’s sure Baz has left. “I have to hand it to you, Simon, you really have a way of getting screwed, and then miraculously unscrewed again.”

I slink into an armchair and bury my face in my hands. “I think he might actually break up with me this time, Pen.”

She scoffs. “Come off it. After everything you two went through at Watford, he won’t break up with you over something as asinine as this.”

“I hope not.” I lift my head and my eyes land on Baz’s discarded coat. “I hope that mess was worth something.”

I feel around the pockets of his coat. I find a hair tie in one of them. In the left pocket I find a crumpled up slip of paper. It’s the note I slipped in his diary yesterday wishing him good luck for his test. Finding it now makes me blush. The interior breast pocket is where I strike gold.

“Got ‘em.” I wave the small box victoriously. It rattles. “I don’t think there are many left.”

“At least we have something.” Penny levels her ring at the box.

“Woah, I thought we were just going to chuck them in the bin.”

She pouts. “Come on, I’ve been wanting to try this spell for ages.”

I stare at her. “You haven’t tried it before?”

“I couldn’t think of anything I wouldn’t want to get back at some point.”

“What about the takeout containers from last night?” I say. This is unusual. Penny always thinks of everything before me. It’s one of the reasons she’s my best friend.

“Oh. I guess I could’ve tried it on them.”

“What if you blow up the flat?” I know I’m being paranoid, but ever since I managed to somehow give myself wings, I’ve been very wary of what magic is capable of.

“Snakes alive, I won’t blow up the flat. Watch.” Penny clears her throat. _**“Out of sight and out of mind!”**_ The box in my hand vanishes with a small pop. I grope the air, trying to see if it’s really gone or just invisible.

“I think you did it.”

“I know I did it.” Penny lowers her hand. Her lips curl up in a self-satisfied smile. “So what do we do when he gets back? Do we tell him?”

“Fuck no, not unless you want to be the first human he ever bites. We wait until he finds out himself at home. Then we have at least five minutes for him to run over here at top speed.”

“You’re being overdramatic. Baz has changed a lot since fifth year.” Penny settles back on the couch and picks up another book. This one’s on deep sea arthropods.

“Not that much. He still hates people messing with his stuff.”

“That reminds me—” Penny is reading at top speed while she talks. It’s one of her many talents, one I couldn’t imagine having. “—we didn’t check his place for cigarettes. He could have plenty of boxes stashed away.”

“He could,” I say slowly. “Or he could not. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Simon.”

“Penny.”

“I’ve noticed that you never go ‘round to Baz’s place. Is that just me being unobservant or do you never go ‘round to Baz’s place?” 

“You’re always observant. And no, I don’t. I don’t need to when he comes here so often.”

“How many times have you been there?”

“Twice,” I admit.

“Really, Simon? Twice? Why is that? Do you think he’s hiding something?” Penny puts down her book so I know she’s invested in this conversation. Merlin knows why. Mine and Baz’s relationship is about as boring as relationships go. All we really do is study, eat takeout and sometimes kiss. When we first got together, properly together, after Baz graduated Watford, I thought it would be different. More exciting. But maybe it’s good that it’s not. Maybe boring is what we both need.

“No?” What would Baz even have to hide? I know he’s a vampire and I know he smokes. How many more shameful secrets can he have tucked away?

“Maybe you should ask to go there sometimes?”

“I think he likes it here more.” I’m being honest. Baz comes over almost every day after classes, and sometimes before. I think his place reminds him too much of his family.

“He does come here a lot, but he never stays over.” Penny’s voice has gone soft. She must know it’s a touchy subject. And it is. My skin is beginning to crawl. I hate it when she tries to get me to talk about that side of our relationship.

“Fuck off, Pen.”

“Split sticks, you really are a dick sometimes, Simon.”

I’m too angry to point out that her insult rhymes.

“I’m trying to _help_ you. You both need it,” Penny says.

“Oh yeah? What about you and Micah? You two haven’t video chatted in months.”

“Micah and I are fine. We both know what we want.”

“Then Baz and I are fine too.” I stomp off to my room, ruining any chance of her believing me. _We_ are _fine,_ I think as I lay down in bed, my wings curling around my body. _But I’m not sure I know what I want._

**Penelope**

He walked out. Just like that. Five minutes ago we were laughing and vanishing cigarettes. Now he doesn’t want to be in the same room as me.

Simon and I don’t usually fight. Simon and Baz used to fight all the time. But not Simon and I. We argue and bicker, but it’s all in good faith and no one really gets hurt. If we’re going to get hurt, we’re going to get hurt together. Usually by some dark force that’s threatening to kill us.

I regret pushing him now. Simon has been through a trauma. A big one. And when your boyfriend, best friend, and ex-girlfriend are all wrapped up in the same trauma, it can be hard to go back to a regular life. Especially when two out of those three people are still very much a part of that life. I still talk to Agatha (when she answers my texts), but I know Simon doesn’t. It’s probably for the best. They were never right for each other, I could see it from the start.

So when something threatens Simon’s sense of normal, he shuts down. He doesn’t confront the ‘what ifs’, he just lives with the things he knows. Him wanting Baz to stop smoking is actually a really big step for him. It’s pushing the boundaries of what’s established and regular, and shows he’s still capable of wanting change. Or maybe he just hates the smell. It probably reminds him too much of his magic. _That’s_ something we don’t talk about. I wouldn’t dare. He doesn’t even like me using it on him. I don’t blame him for that.

But his relationship with Baz is another story. If you can call it a relationship. Technically they’re in one, but in practice they’re more like frenemies with shared trauma who have a lot of unresolved sexual tension between them. It’s all very _Jane Eyre._

I want to help them. I like helping people. Simon would say I like fixing people, which I suppose is fair. I believe that, more often than not, if people took my advice they’d be better off for it. It’s not my fault I give excellent advice. 

Most of all, though, I want Simon to not be angry with me. I can’t handle it. Agatha is exasperated with me (when is she not?), so that means two out of my three friends (four if you count Baz) (I do, I’m just not sure he does) are annoyed with me. And Baz will be angry with me as soon as he finds out about the cigarettes.

So I need Simon to make peace. Or at least come out of his room so I can make peace. It’s for his good too, he’ll need me more than ever if Baz breaks up with him over the whole smoking saga. (That’s not going to happen. I’m ninety-nine percent sure. Baz doesn’t have it in him to break up with Simon).

It takes a while for Simon to come out of his room, but at least he emerges before Baz is back. It’s been forty-five minutes since Baz left, so I’m unconvinced that he will be coming back. (I’m already starting to consider opening a frozen pizza.) He shuffles quietly into the lounge, but I’ve been waiting for him so I spot him instantly. He swapped his jeans for flannelette pyjama pants and his hair’s even messier than it was before. I won’t make fun of his appearance (I’m not one to make fun of people’s appearances in general), I’m just glad to see him.

I open my mouth and then close it. And then open it again. And close it. I’m starting to feel like a fish. I don’t know what to say. I want to say whatever it is that will make us friends again, but the trouble is I don’t know what will.

It’s Simon who speaks first. “Sorry for being a dick.”

“Apology accepted.” I beam at him. “Sorry for having a very large nose and sticking it in your business.”

“It’s fine. Just please don’t talk about me and Baz.”

“Baz? Who’s Baz?” Not funny. Too soon. I know it’s not funny, but Simon chortles anyway. I love him so much.

“So we’re all good?” I ask. Just to double check.

“Always. I couldn’t live without you as my best friend.” Simon pushes my book to the side and sits down next to me. I throw my arms around him and his body stiffens (I worry I’ve kneed him in the stomach). He does return the hug eventually, but I don’t let it linger.

Everything returns to normal after that. I return to my chapter on _Thecostraca._ Simon starts playing _The Legend of Zelda._ (I think that’s what he’s playing. He tried to teach me once, but gave up and said I spent way too long on the side quests.) I shouldn’t be surprised. Simon likes normal.

There’s a scuffling noise at the front door. I leap to my feet and hold out my ring hand. The handle turns and the door opens. Baz walks in shivering. He’s carrying a large bag of Indian.

“You two really need to lock your front door,” he says. His cheeks have a rosy tint to them and his lips are red. He must’ve gone hunting while he was out.

He sees me standing there, poised for the attack, and sneers. “Were you expecting an intruder?”

“I wasn’t expecting _you._ I thought you’d gone home and left us to starve.”

“Why would I have gone home? I left my laptop here.” He’s right. Eight snakes, I’m not at the top of my game today. I blame Simon and the damned cigarette disposal plan.

Baz has stopped looking at me. He’s not looking at Simon either. He’s looking at his coat, which is hung up nice and neat on the hanger. _Shit._

“Pray tell why you were searching through my coat?” he says. His voice is icy. It sends a shiver through me.

“We just hung it up for you. Didn’t want it to get all creased.”

Baz doesn’t believe me of course. I think he’s finally putting two and two together. He grabs the coat and starts patting it down like he’s an airport official. 

“My cigarettes are gone.” He ignores me and rounds on Simon. “I thought we were over this yesterday, Snow. Just because you don’t like me smoking, doesn’t give you an excuse to steal my possessions.”

Simon isn’t backing down. ‘It was an intervention, Baz, because you refuse to see sense.”

“Well consider your intervention a failure,” Baz snarls. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a fresh packet of cigarettes. “I bought these while I was out getting _your_ dinner. Which I know you’re not going to pay me back for.”

“I would if I could. You know I can’t get a job.” Simon sounds really hurt now. I’m starting to feel like this is about more than just cigarettes for him.

Baz must see it too because he sighs and drops the takeaway on the coffee table. “Crowely, Snow, you know I don’t care about the money. But you have to leave this alone, it’s my life to live.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a long time. The silence stretches between the three of us like a suffocating blanket of discomfort. Finally, Simon says in a small voice, “Are you going to leave?”

“No.” Baz spins around and gracefully deposits himself on a chair. “I left my laptop here, remember?”

A few days have passed since the coat incident. Enough that I think Simon is over Baz and his smoking habit. The two of them are going well enough, but there’s clearly an added layer of tension between them. As if they didn’t have enough tension to begin with.

So I’m reasonably surprised when Simon approaches me and thrusts a whiteboard marker in my face.

“Ready for phase two?” There’s a steely glint in his eye that tells me he’s dead serious.

“Phase two?” I cock an eyebrow. “Alright. But first you have to tell me why you really want Baz to quit.” That’s my one condition. We have to be on the same page about all of this.

Simon pauses to think. “For his health.”

“No.”

“Because he’s flammable.”

“Try again.”

“Because I can’t stand the smell! It reminds me too much of my magic.” 

Bingo. I was right all along. I usually am, but it’s always nice to have confirmation.

“Thanks for telling me the truth, Si.” I smile at him. I want him to know that this is a safe space for him to share his thoughts and feelings. From what I’ve read about trauma therapy, safe spaces are important.

“Well now that that’s out of the way, can we move on to phase two?” He blows a lock of golden hair out of his eyes when he’s done talking. His hair is too long; he needs a haircut.

I uncap the marker and hold it out like a sword. Simon used to wield a sword, but I’ve always found the pen mightier. “We sure can.”

**Simon**

Phase two is straightforward enough. Penny buys some nicotine patches from the pharmacy down the road. The lady at the cash register gives her an approving nod and says she’s proud of her for trying to quit. Penny thanks her and takes her change. It’s probably best that she doesn’t mention we’re planning to stick them on an unwilling third party.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Simon?” Penny says as we’re walking back to the flat. “It is technically a form of common law battery.”

“Baz doesn’t trust the Normal police. He’s not going to report me. And even if he did they’d just laugh at him.”

“Still, are you sure this is a good idea?” Penny zips up her coat. There’s a chill in the air (it’s London, there’s always a chill in the air), and she must be cold from wearing a pleated skirt and no stockings. She wears them all the time, even though she’s no longer at Watford.

“ _You_ came up with the idea.”

“I said we could try patches, but I thought it was implied that you talk to him about it first, not ambush him with them.”

“I will talk to him. After he’s had them on for a while and realises they’re—” I check the box “—ninety-four percent effective at reducing nicotine cravings.”

“Baz will admit nothing. You really need to talk to him. Properly.” Penny kicks at a piece of gravel and sends it careening across the pavement.

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” I mumble.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. I thought you were all in, Penny. What’s changed?”

“I was at the start. It was fun at first, now it’s just sad.”

Sad. That’s one way to put it. That word could describe most things in my life right now.

“So stealing his cigarettes? That was just—”

“—to piss him off.” She finishes. “It was mostly revenge for him leaving salt and vinegar crisp crumbs between our couch cushions. We got ants because of that.” She makes a face. I’m sort of glad the ants are Baz’s fault. Penny’s always telling me off for leaving crumbs on the couch. 

“You’d think it’d take two seconds for him to _**Clean as a Whistle**_ them, but no, he has to give us ants.”

I stop her before she can get too fixated on the ants. “Penny, you don’t have to help me if you don’t want to. I know it’s stupid. Save your incredible brain for something worthwhile.”

“There’s plenty of this brain to go around, don’t you worry about that.” Penny taps her head with a wink. I think her head’s normal sized, but her hair makes it look bigger. “Talk to Baz. That’s my advice. Try to come to a compromise.”

“Baz doesn’t compromise.” I let my shoulders slump forward. I feel like giving up; sometimes I don’t fully understand why I even want this so badly.

“New advice. Find a new boyfriend. Someone easygoing and agreeable for a change.”

She’s kidding. Even if she isn’t, it’s not going to happen. There’s only Baz. Even if Baz breaks up with me someday, I doubt there’ll be someone else. No one else compares, he blows them all out of the park. I wish I could find a way to tell him that. But I’m just Simon Snow. A former Chosen One-who-wasn’t-really-a-Chosen-One. Magicless. Orphaned. With wings and a tail. At best I’m a freak and at worst I’m a nobody. 

Maybe I don’t say those things to him because there’s no way he’ll ever say them back.

**Baz**

I’m late home today. Well, not _home_ ;I’m heading up the stairs to Snow and Bunce’s flat. But their place feels more like home than mine ever has and I go there first most days.

I’ve barely knocked on the door when it swings open, revealing Snow’s beaming face. He usually stays on the couch and waits for me to let myself in. I wonder what he wants from me.

“I was starting to think you’d never get here.”

“Had to finish that stupid essay in the library. It’s too distracting here to get anything halfway done,” I say as I hang up my bookbag and coat. I am not letting that coat out of my sight this time.

“So does that mean you’re free for the rest of the night?” Snow eyes me hopefully.

“Well I suppose I could get a headstart on next week’s readings.”

“Or not.” Snow takes me by the hand and drags me into the living area. “You can take a night off. Maybe we can watch a movie or something. Penny’s cooking.”

I sniff the air. “Is that what that smell is?”

“Oh piss off, Basil, I’m much better now,” Penny yells from the kitchen.

I have to admit, it doesn’t smell as bad as it usually does. Less radioactive.

“What spells did you use?” I yell back.

“ _ **Spoonful of sugar**_ and _**This recipe never fails**_ ,” she says begrudgingly.

Simon still hasn’t let go of my hand. He’s even slotted his fingers between mine and his thumb is doing that annoyingly comforting thing where it strokes the back of my hand. We hardly ever hold hands anymore. Snow isn’t comfortable with public displays of affection and I pretend it’s beneath me (although if Snow liked it I’d never let go of his hand when we’re out together). At home there’s no real need for it, so we don’t. This feels so nice that I’m starting to regret not initiating it more often. But I’m still suspicious. I haven’t figured out what he wants yet.

“Dinner is served!” Penny says in a sing-song voice. But she can’t sing so it just sounds flat and scratchy. Snow and I approach the breakfast bar where steaming bowls of… something are waiting.

“What is it meant to be?” I ask.

“Dahl.” The microwave beeps. “Ooh, that’s the roti. I didn’t attempt to make that from scratch.”

“Don’t listen to Baz, this looks great, Pen,” Simon says. I don’t trust him when it comes to judging food—that boy will eat anything. 

I try a wary mouthful as I’m carrying my bowl to the sofa. It’s still hot, but it’s surprisingly edible. Those spells must’ve worked.

Simon sits down next to me. We’re very close. Our entire thighs are touching. We’ll probably end up bumping elbows as we eat, so I shift to the left. He shifts over too and lifts an arm so it’s resting on the back of the couch, behind my shoulders. I throw him one of my signature looks. It’s a look that says ‘what are you doing?’ and ‘please stop’ at the same time. Snow doesn’t bother to explain, but he does shift back half an inch.

“Almost there,” Penny places down the plate of roti on the coffee table and two ciders for her and Simon. “What do you want to drink, Baz?” 

“Water. Six ice cubes.” I try not to drink alcohol around other people. I’m such a lightweight that I’m sure to embarrass myself after one drink.

“We ran out of ice.” Penny says, not sounding the least bit sorry.

“Then a coke,” I say just to mess with her. She gets her revenge by going and getting one for me.

“Not even diet? Really, Bunce?” I crack it open and pray it doesn’t fizz over my fingers.

“Do we look like diet coke people to you?”

I have to agree with her there. 

Simon stays weirdly close to me throughout dinner. I’m keeping my elbows tucked into my sides to avoid hitting him, but that doesn’t stop him from landing a few glancing hits on my ribs. I glare at him each time but he just returns my glares with his puppy dog eyes and I’m unable to push him away. Crowley curse Simon Snow’s baby blues.

I still cover my mouth when I chew, but I will eat in front of Snow and Bunce. They know who I am, know what happens when I eat. But that doesn’t mean I want them staring at my fangs. I don’t even like the feeling of them in my mouth.

There’s one piece of roti left. I take it and use it to mop up the remainder of my dahl. It does taste good, not that I would admit it to the cook. It’s been so long since I last had a proper home cooked meal. Maybe I should learn how to cook. Or make Snow learn. I can almost picture it: him standing in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, strong arms mixing up a storm. Snow loves food, that has to be good for something. 

“Alright, Simon can clear the plates, I’m going to do some work in my room.” Penny stands up and drains the last of her cider. Simon is staring at something on his phone (I don’t think he even heard her) so I take it upon myself to clear the coffee table of its dishes. I pour the rest of my coke down the sink; I hear it makes a good drain cleaner. 

I walk back to the lounge with half a mind to tell Simon I’m going home, but he grabs my arm and tugs me back on the couch.

“We should watch a movie.” 

“What movie?”

Instead of replying, he gets up and fiddles with the DVD player. With the way he’s been acting tonight, I almost expect him to put on a romantic comedy. What he does put on is much more him, though. It’s one of those childish Japanese cartoons that’s set in some wonderful fantasyland and has an obnoxiously happy ending. Simon doesn’t watch anything that doesn’t have a happy ending. 

He sits back on the couch and squishes in close. His arm goes around my shoulders properly. Heat radiates from his body and I feel warm in all the places our bodies are touching.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Watching a movie.”

“Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“I dunno, it just feels right? Doing something normal like a regular couple.”

“Neither one of us are normal,” I say. I give Simon’s wing a poke for good measure. Simon grumbles. He used to growl a lot when I would antagonise him, but now he just grumbles.

“Why do we always end up like this?”

Well that’s a question and a half. Not one I was expecting him to ask when there are colourful fish-people on the telly.

“You should ask yourself that,” I bite back because I don’t want to answer. Besides, he’s the one that should answer. He’s the one who’s been pulling back, ignoring the affection I try to show him. Sometimes it feels like nothing’s changed since Watford even though I know that everything has. And then he suddenly acts like we’re a normal couple out of nowhere and expects me to just go with it?

“Can we please just watch the movie?” Snow reclines back on the couch and I let myself go with him. My head ends up in the space between his chin and his chest and I’m engulfed in his warm, buttery scent. All the smoke is gone, but Simon Snow is still there. 

Snow starts to play with my hair and that’s when I really melt into him. It’s been so long since he last did this I’d almost forgotten how good it feels. I should’ve told him how good it feels. WIth his fingers in my hair and the movie’s charming soundtrack playing from the tinny speakers, my eyelids begin to droop. Then I feel something stick to my arm.

“What did you do?” I say as I scramble away from him. I find the thing on my arm and rip it off. “A nicotine patch, Snow? Is that what this whole charade has been about?”

“No! Well, yes, at first, I’m sorry, Baz, I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You used me.” I try to keep my tone as cold as possible, but I still sound like an estranged girlfriend from a soap. I suppose I feel a bit like one too.

“I know and it was stupid, I’m sorry.” Simon’s pleading at me with his eyes, but this time I won’t be swayed.

“If you knew it was stupid, which it was of course, then why did you do it?”

He shrugs helplessly. “I dunno, that was the plan originally, and then Penny bought them for me and I felt like I couldn’t back out.”

“You _planned_ this together? What is wrong with you?” I raise my voice to make sure Penny can hear me from her room.

“I told him it was a bad idea!” Penny calls back. She can’t resist being right even if it means proving that they were in on it together.

“I’m going to hunt. I don’t want to even look at you right now.” I stand up in a huff and try to calm my hair. Snow’s stupid fingers messed it up.

“Baz, wait.” Snow tries to grab my hand and I yank it back. “I know you won’t believe me, but all that stuff we were doing, it was nice.” He looks down at his feet and a flush crawls up his neck. “I did want to do it. Genuinely.”

“Then you shouldn’t have stuck the fucking patch on me.” 

I walk out of the flat without looking back. I know that if I do, I’ll crack.

**Simon**

Shit. I shouldn’t have done that. I wish I’d listened to myself as I thought ‘I shouldn’t be doing this’ while sticking it on his arm. What a cock-up I am. A terrible boyfriend. Penny was right, I should break up with him. For his sake, not mine. 

Baz must hate me now. The way he’d looked at me when he ripped the patch off—it was like he hated me. But more than that, it was like weeks of hurt had finally come to a head. I know I’ve been struggling with the stuff between us and everything else in my life, but that’s still no excuse to fuck up that badly. There must be something seriously wrong with me. 

“You really fucked up, Simon.” Penny’s in the lounge now, voicing my thoughts aloud.

“I really fucked up, Penny.”

“So what are you going to do?”

I take out the box of patches from my back pocket and lob it against the wall. 

“I’m going to talk to him.” It comes out sounding like that’s the last thing I want to do, which I suppose it is in a way. But I’ve said it now so there’s no taking it back. 

Penny cheers. “About time.”

I nod but there’s a lump in my throat. 

“I’ll do it tomorrow. He won’t be coming back tonight.” He’d made that crystal clear.

“Tomorrow it is then.”

Penny comes over and ruffles my curls. “You don’t want to talk to him, do you?”

“No. I want everything to skip straight to being alright without the talking part in the middle.”

She’s switched to playing with my tail.

“That’s not how life works. Sometimes you just have to say what you mean.”

“How do you know what to say when you don’t know what you mean?” That’s always been my problem—not knowing what I should know. I know I want to be with Baz, and at one point I’d thought that was enough.

“Be honest and maybe the meaning will sort itself out.”

“Is that what you do?”

She fixes me with a look. “I always know exactly what I mean.”

“Must be nice,” I huff. She doesn’t reply, so that’s the end of that. The movie is still playing, though I’ve barely been following it. I was going to turn it off, but Penny tucks her feet up and stretches my tail over her lap, so I let it play out. 

**Baz**

_Today is a normal day._

I keep telling myself that as I walk to my favourite cafe. It’s a little too close to Snow and Bunce’s, but the baristas know my usual order off by heart and I want today to feel like a normal day. I want it to _be_ a normal day. It would be if Snow hadn’t fucked everything up last night. 

I growl at myself—a habit I wish I hadn’t picked up from Snow. I’m trying not to think about him and last night, but the harder I try, the more I end up thinking about it all. I’m exhausted and it’s only 10am.

The cafe has a bell that rings when I push the door open. I normally hate bells that announce your entrance to the whole store, but it’s the morning rush and no one acknowledges the sound. The place is packed with customers lingering in the warmth and finishing their drinks. It’s the weekend so they don’t have to rush off to work, but I wish they’d rush off _somewhere_ instead of crowding the cafe.

I’ve muscled my way over to the counter when a familiar voice calls out my name.

“Baz! Over here.” I’m tall and Snow’s voice carries so I spot him sitting at a table in the corner. 

Seeing him here prompts a confusing mix of strong emotions, all trying to overpower each other. The one that surfaces first is anger, so I cling to it as I push through to Snow’s table. Why did I bother trying not to think of him when he was just going to show up and fuck everything up some more?

He’s sitting alone (either Bunce decided she’s out, or this is all part of another horrendous plan of theirs), and on the other side of the table is a tall drink topped with far too much whipped cream. My usual.

“What do you want?” I say in the most bored voice I can muster. I don’t sit down. He’s going to say something stupid and unhelpful and I’m going to leave with my last shred of pride. I’ll leave the drink untouched (no matter how good that whipped cream looks) because it will take more than a mocha breve to buy back my affections. And he’ll realise that sweeping things under the rug isn’t the same as actually fixing something (I hope).

“We need to talk. Actually talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

“Baz please.” Snow’s face is crumpled. There are bags under his eyes and his hoodie has a curry stain on it. He’s a mess and I want to give in, I really do.

“Does talking start with you apologising? Properly?”

“Yes. For everything, and then some.” Snow’s pleading at me with his eyes. I snatch the coffee cup up off the table.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“Go? Where? Why?” Snow keeps asking questions as he clambers out of his chair. 

I grab his jacket before he forgets it and throw it at his chest. “Because we’re not having this conversation inside a cafe.”

I have no idea where I’m going.

Simon’s following me like a lost dog, and I don’t want him to know I have no idea where I’m going, so I keep walking.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Snow says. His voice is a bit puffy from keeping up with me, but I don’t slow my gait.

“Yes.” An idea comes to mind and I take a sharp right turn. I hear Snow’s trainers scuff on the pavement behind me. There’s a small lake nearby and we’re sure to find a quiet spot there. On one desperate night I hunted a swan that was swimming near the edge (wouldn’t recommend it, its blood tasted like pondweed and it was hard not feeling guilty for draining such a magnificent creature).

“I’ve been here before,” Snow says when we’re near the lake. “Pen and I did paddle boating once.”

I don’t ask how he managed to get his wings on a paddle boat. I won’t ask him anything until I’ve heard that proper apology he promised me.

The lake is a little slice of tranquility in the bustle of London, so it’s no surprise that plenty of people are enjoying it, even when the weather’s cold and dreary. It’s London; we don’t often get any other weather. I can see that there’s a free bench on the other side, so we head towards that. 

Snow stops half a dozen times to throw the ducks some crisp crumbs he has lining the pockets of his disgusting jacket. I resist the urge to grab his arm and pull him along. (I’m pretty sure ducks don’t like salt and vinegar.)

We finally make it to the bench and I throw myself on it (gracefully) (leaving plenty of room for Snow) (I don’t want a repeat of last night where he sits far too close to me and makes me feel soft and vulnerable inside).

Snow doesn’t sit down at first. He stands there awkwardly with his hands shoved in his pockets. Because he’s standing, he’s looking down at me. Snow never gets to look down at me. I won’t allow it.

“Sit down and start talking,” I hiss at him. That seems to jolt him into action, because he takes a seat on the other side of the bench and presses up against the opposite armrest.

He doesn’t look at me; he just stares at his hands in his lap, but his voice rings out clear and strong. “Baz I’m so sorry.” No blustering. Not even an ‘um’ or an ‘ah’. I’m slightly floored.

He’s not done yet. “Not only for all of this stupid smoking stuff. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me because I was too caught up in myself and my problems. I’m sorry for not returning your affection even when it was the only thing I wanted, because I thought I didn’t deserve to want it. I’m sorry for being lazy and depressed and a burden on you when you were out there succeeding.” He pauses to croak out a laugh. “I’m sorry for being your terrible boyfriend. When I joked about it that one time, I didn’t think it would turn out to be as true as it did. I’ve been really terrible, Baz, and I’m sorry.”

I give him a few seconds after all that. Hell, I give _myself_ a few seconds. Holy shit. Just when you think Simon Snow is done with the explosions, he drops another bomb on you just like that. He’s unstoppable. Unbelievable. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand him. I’m not sure I’ll ever want to.

“Baz?”

“That was… something, Simon,” I say truthfully. “I really only expected you to apologise about the smoking.”

“Yeah, well, figured there was a bit more to it than that.” 

“How long did it take for you to come up with all that?”

“A long fucking time talking it over with Penny. Then even longer thinking it through alone. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Neither did I.” I shift in my seat. There are words that have started to crawl themselves out of my lungs, but they die before they reach my tongue.

“Do you—do you want to break up?” Simon asks, his voice no longer steady. I should’ve seen this question coming, but it still knocks me off guard. 

“Is that what _you_ want?” I need Snow to be honest with me. If that’s what he’s wanted all along, he should just say so.

“So you do want to break up.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Then just answer the bloody question! Don’t throw it back in my face! I don’t want to break up which is why I poured my fucking soul into that apology. If you want to break up just get it over with so we can stop kidding ourselves.”

Simon’s talking a lot more than usual, finally saying all the things that have been left unspoken between us for too long. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to hear out loud. Maybe I have been kidding myself.

“Simon,” I say so I know I’ve got his attention. “You’re not a terrible boyfriend. And I don’t want us to break up.”

“I am,” he says automatically. “Wait, you don’t?”

“No, I don’t. And as for being a terrible boyfriend, you went through so much last year. You lost people you care about, you lost part of your identity. Life hasn’t been easy for you since then. For the most part, you’ve done the best you could do.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve barely been keeping myself afloat. This isn’t my best. At least, I hope it isn’t. And you’ve been so patient for so long and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“I chose to be with you, Simon. It’s my choice.” I stop to let my words sink in. “And I wish I could make things better for you. It kills me sometimes that I can’t.”

“Baz…”

“And then the only thing you suddenly care about is my smoking. Something about me that you want to fix. I felt like I wasn’t good enough for you.” There’s a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes; I’m trying not to give in to either of them.

“That’s not true, _I’m_ the one that isn’t good enough for you.”

I swipe a hand across my damp cheek, hoping it looks like I’m brushing back a stray piece of hair. We’re too far away to be confessing our secrets like this; the park bench feels like an ocean between us. I shift over a little and Simon mirrors my movement.

“I chose you, that means you are good enough.”

Simon makes a small strangled noise. (It’s not quite disbelief, which means we’re getting somewhere.)

“The smoking has nothing to do with you not being good enough, Baz. I told Penny it was because the smell of it reminds me too much of my magic, which is sort of true. But when you smoke I remember you in that vampire bar with Nicodemus. You looked so calm and cool and I thought nothing could touch you. Then you walked outside and tried to set yourself on fire.”

My mouth goes dry like it always does when I think of that night. It’s a secret that’s stayed only between us. I don’t even think Bunce knows.

“That happened a long time ago. Trust me, I haven’t felt like that again. I would tell you if I did.”

“Would you?” Snow turns his head to look at me. His eyes are red too. “We never tell each other anything anymore.”

“And whose fault is that?” I respond bitterly. 

Snow recoils like a wounded puppy and my heart breaks for him.

“Sorry. It’s my fault too,” I amend. “Neither of us have been good communicators.”

Snow takes a deep, shaky breath. “You’re right. So promise me now that you’re telling the truth? That things haven’t been that bad since then?”

“I promise. I’ve had my good and bad days, but nothing as bad as that.” I edge closer to Snow on the bench. I’m close enough that I can reach out and touch him, but I don’t. “Can you promise me the same? That you’ll tell me if you ever feel like that?”

“I mean, I can, but it’s not really the same for me. Most days I don’t feel like fire, I just feel numb.”

I used to think Simon was the most alive person in the world. He was vibrant and volatile, a beating heart bursting at the seams. He’s still alive now, but muted. Washed out, like a faded portrait on the mantelpiece. I’d breathe life back into him if I had any of my own to give.

“Tell me on those days too. We’ll get through them together.”

“Are you sure? I’m already burdening you enough. Wouldn’t it be easier to—“

“Snow. You’re not a burden. I’m always going to be concerned for you, it’s best if you just tell me when something’s wrong.”

Simon bites his lip and nods. “I’ll try.” He ducks his head and a curl falls in his eyes. “Baz, can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I can ask you one too.”

“I s’pose that’s fair. I just want to know why you like smoking so much.”

“I wouldn’t say I like it all that much.” I stop to think of how best to word it. “I don’t really know why. I think there might be a small part of me that still craves the fire.” It’s a sombre admission, to myself as well as to Snow. 

“Oh.”

I look out across the lake, at the ripples moving over the surface in steady waves. “I think it might be time to set aside the fire for now.”

“I’m proud of you, Baz. That’s not an easy decision to make.” Snow’s smiling now, and I feel my own lips begin to curve upwards.

“My turn now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why do you hate physical touch so much? Last night’s abnormalities not included?”

The smile slides off Snow’s face. “I don’t hate it, I just—I don’t mind initiating some of it myself, but letting you do it—it just, it scares me sometimes. I don’t know. I feel weird. And vulnerable. I don’t know why, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Have you always felt like this?”

“I dunno. I don’t think so. I think it’s gotten worse over time.”

“Was it me? Did I do something?”

He shakes his head. “You’re fine. It’s me. It’s always me.”

“Simon. You’re allowed to want someone to lean on. You’re allowed to want to be held. If that is what you want.” I want to be that person for him, if he’ll have me.

“I’d like that. At least, I'd like to work towards that.”

Simon’s hands are resting on his thighs. I reach my own hand out and gently lower it over one of his.

“Is this okay?”

“It’s okay.”

I cover his hand with my own, and then slide my other hand underneath it so it’s sandwiched between both of mine. His skin is so warm, and I can feel the rough calluses he has on his palm.

A faint blush dusts Snow’s freckled cheeks as he looks down at our hands and then back up at me. I can see the sun reflected in his eyes. I can see hope.

**Simon**

I hear the front door creak open. Penny’s at a symposium ‘til late tonight, so it must be Baz. I crane my neck over the back of the couch to get a look at him in the entryway.

“‘Lo, Baz,” I call out to him.

“Good evening, Snow,” he responds as he unwinds his scarf. He takes off his coat next. As he reaches his arms up to hang it on the hook, his shirt sleeve rides up and I see a flesh-coloured patch stuck to his forearm. 

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is @redscrollsofmalec, if you're part of the carry on fandom, come say hi!


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